If You're Canadian in the Kitchen
by ShayneScribbler
Summary: Having some of the family get together was nice sometimes, but tonight all they were doing was arguing and Canada doesn't want to put up with it. She tries to hide away in the kitchen, but her lover has better ideas. fem!Canada/Scotland


A/N: This is a short little fic done once again for the kink-meme.

Warnings: PWP, graphic sex

Pairing: Scotland/fem!Canada rare pair

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><p><strong>If You're Canadian in the Kitchen...<strong>

The dishwater in the sink was a dingy grey and no longer held any heat or foam. The dishes we long done. Most had even been dried and put away, only a couple pots and lids from dinner left in the rack to dry overnight, but Canada still couldn't bring herself to join the others in the livingroom.

Even though the kitchen was at the back of the house and the livingroom up next to the front foyer, Canada could hear the raised voices of England and India shouting at each other, every now and then broken up by a lazy interjection from Australia or a loud comment from Ireland. Canada assumed that Scotland, Wales, New Zealand, and North Ireland were also in the room, but she hadn't heard any input from them in quite a while.

Though she couldn't make out anything being said, the tone of the voices indicated that England had already been into the liquor cabinet – the brandy, most likely – and was starting into one of his rants over the loss of his status as an empire. It was much more interesting, Canada decided, to stare at cold and dirty dish water, rather than have to listen to her family scream at each other. Probably better for her mental health too.

A glass clinked down onto the counter next to the sink and Canada jumped, looking over to see who had come into the kitchen. Scotland stood next to her, an odd smile on his face as he watched her.

"Something interesting in the sink?" he questioned teasingly, and oh god that accent, Canada shuddered, biting her lower lip as her cheeks flushed. And damn the man for knowing exactly what it did to her, knowing he was thickening it purposely just to watch her squirm.

"Better to stare at some dirty water than be in the same room as England right now," Canada explained in her soft voice, turning back to face the sick and willing the red stain off her cheeks.

Scotland hummed in agreement, slipping behind her to curl hands over jean-clad hips and press the blonde nation up against the edge of the counter. Canada squeaked and shot a frown over her shoulder.

"Not now, Scotland," she warned softly, glancing over at the kitchen doorway. "Someone might hear."

"Not if you're quiet," Scotland purred warmly in her ear and Canada swore she could feel that accent rasping across her nerve endings, a soft moan filtering past her lips. Ignoring the warmth pooling low in her abdomen, she tried to shove the man back.

"Well, then someone will come looking," she groused, swatting at the strands of red hair tickling at her ear.

"Everyone is either arguing with England or watching the entertainment," Scotland countered, pushing his hips against hers and running his hands over arms bared by the tank-top she wore, nibbling down the side of her neck. Canada felt her mind stutter to a halt and a long high keening filter from her mouth. Rough fingers clamped across her mouth and warm breath puffed over her neck as Scotland chuckled quietly. "And I'll help you keep quiet."

Canada twitched as the front button of her jeans was popped open and the zipper dragged down and _when had he managed to get his hand down there_? The hand slid down the front of her panties and Canada gave up with a few garbled syllables that were muffled by the hand still clamped tightly over her mouth. She could feel the shit-eating grin that pressed against her shoulder when Scotland felt the resistance leave her body.

"Knew you'd see things my way," he said with a laugh, shoving down her jeans and underwear so he could push fingers into her warm folds. Canada went cross-eyed and shifted her legs as far apart as the jeans that were still around her thighs would allow.

"Always so accommodating once you give in," Scotland hummed happily, pressing his hips harder against her rear, and oh he really was enjoying this. Canada's huffy reply was lost somewhere between the hand on her face and the finger that was suddenly pressing up inside her.

Still, Canada hadn't lost her ability to think completely and if they really were going to do this here, then it had to be now, because she would die of embarrassment if any of her brothers and sisters were to walk in on them. She shoved her jeans and panties down past her knees and reached around to fumble awkwardly with the fly of Scotland's slacks. She had a fleeting wish that he had decided to wear one of his kilts today. Not only did they give a good view of strong legs, but kilts were definitely easier access in these situations.

Scotland was laughing at her again, but made no move to help, for which she was grateful. She liked his hands exactly where they were at the moment. When the fly was finally undone, she shoved roughly at the slacks and boxers, jerking in anticipation when she felt hard heat slap against her ass. He pressed a second finger up into her and she fumbled her attempt to grab his cock and line him up. Her next try was successful and she wrapped her fingers around Scotland, guiding him down to where his fingers were gently moving in and out of her.

She wiggled her hips, trying to get him to remove the fingers so they could be replaced with something better. Instead, he pressed his fingers in deeper, at the same time jerking his hips forward so that his cock slid in with them. If it weren't for the hand holding her head up and muffling her cries, Canada knew the action would have caused her to scream and face-plant into the sink of dirty water.

"You're not very good at being quiet," Scotland breathed into her ear. Canada kicked his shin lightly and Scotland grunted softly.

He slid his fingers out of her with his first slow thrust, trailing the moist digits up the crease of her hip to curl around the back of her thigh. Jeans and underwear hit the floor with a soft rustle of fabric as he pulled the leg up and out of them. The change in position allowed him to sink further inside her soft heat and Scotland had o bite back a groan. He pulled almost all the way out, then sunk slowly back in, keeping the rhythm easy and unhurried, knowing Canada preferred it this way.

Canada couldn't help the shivers that shook her body. Each delicious slide of hard flesh inside her, slowly so she could feel the movement of every last millimetre, drove her closer to the edge of pleasure. Scotland and the counter were the only things keeping her upright and she didn't even care to try and stop the noises escaping her throat. Didn't care that if it weren't for Scotland's hand the entire household would be able to hear them. She thought she might be begging by this point, but the words – if they were even words – were nothing more than unintelligible murmurs slipping between warm fingers.

The heat in her groin was almost unbearable, every wave that passed through her body threatening to be the last and sweep her away. She flailed her arms out in front of her, search for something to grip, something to ground herself. Fingers found purchase – one hand around the handle of a cupboard, the other along the edge of the counter – as Scotland pushed in deep, and she was gone. A cry ripped from her throat as her body convulsed lightly, sparks shooting along every nerve ending and vision blurring into a kaleidoscope of colour and bright fluorescent light.

As she came down, relaxing into the body behind her, she heard words being mumbled into her ear in a soft Scottish brogue. The man was still achingly hard inside her, and his voice was near reverent as he continued his slow thrusts. Each one set off a new quiver in her limp, over-sensitive body and she groaned softly in thanks as she finally felt him still and heat spill inside of her.

The satiated pair sank to the floor, curled against the cabinets on top of their discarded pants and underwear. Sitting in Scotland's lap, Canada could feel him still inside her, softening and slipping. They both shuddered slightly when she shifted and he finally slid out completely. The hand that had been previously keeping her quiet was curled tightly across her front, her breasts resting lightly upon his forearm, heat soaking through her thin bra and tank-top to warm them. She turned to tuck her head under his chin, rubbing her nose in a light caress along his neck. Scotland chuckled, the arm he had around her tightening while the other raised to run fingers through her curls and toy with the one fly-away piece of hair.

Canada smiled peacefully and closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the afterglow and ignore the raised voices that still echoed down the hall from where the rest of the family still argued in the livingroom. It had definitely been more interesting to watch the dishwater.

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><p>This is just something short to tide people over before the next chapter of Not Every Dynasty gets finished. Hopefully it's enjoyable. I don't normally post anything this quite this graphic, but if people enjoy it I might be inclined to dig into some of my other PWPs that aren't up here yet.<p> 


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